


The Holy Joe Killer

by Vean



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vean/pseuds/Vean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three men were found posed as if Jesus on the Cross, but in various locations on garbage. </p><p>Jane and Maura work the case. </p><p>Rated T for now, but will go up to M. A Very, VERY slow burn Rizzles story. </p><p>Disclaimer, I don't own the characters. </p><p>Many thanks to Emotionsovrflow for all her help and assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As the sun rose over the horizon that early morning, the first sign something was amiss at the Boston city dump was the sheer number of birds circling over a certain spot, more so than usual. When the driver of the dumpster truck came near and saw what attracted the interest of the birds, he dry retched before reaching for his walkie talkie. 

“There's another body, in the same position as the others, over in the S2 part of the dump. Call the cops!”

Later that morning, as the crime scene was being cordoned off, Frost threw up into his vomit bag, so as not to contaminate the scene. Meanwhile, Jane Rizzoli waved a stick at some birds who had already made way with one eyeball, shooing them to avoid any additional evidence loss. The natural smells of the dump combined with the distinctive smell of decomposition made even the most hardened of detectives queasy, but Jane remembered the handy tip Maura gave her, smear Vicks vapor-rub on her nostrils and the smells would be overpowered. She continued trying to scare off the birds while Maura, wearing a hazmat suit, like the other officers and detectives on the scene, finished the initial examination of the body. The body lay supine, posed, resembling Jesus on the cross. His hands were splayed, his feet impaled together with a stake, a roughly made crown of thorns on his head, the body left in a location where he would be easily found. 

The detectives on the scene looked at each other, thinking of the other two victims who were found posed in similar positions, like Jesus on the cross, only they were posed on top of garbage instead. The first victim was found on a dumpster barge, and the second victim on top of garbage bags left for trash collection. All three seemed to have identical wounds, on the palms, the feet and on the torso. 

“Caucasian male, aged between 50 and 70, with wounds apparent on both hands and feet, wound on his torso, one eyeball missing. Time of death between 48 and 72 hours. I will know more after the autopsy.” 

“So, it's another victim of the serial killer?”

“I do not make assumptions. I will know more after the autopsy, as I said.”

“Hmpf!”

After the photos of the crime scene were taken and they were ready to go, Jane, Frost and Maura were walking back to the car when Jane stepped on something only to realize it was the decomposing body of a rat, riddled with maggots. The disturbance released a stench which was so powerful it nearly made her vomit. It was then and only then that she was very thankful she was wearing the special hazmat suit, including foot coverings, so she did not have to take the gunk off her boots, not to mention the Vicks around her nostrils. 

When she tried to lift her foot off the remains, she discovered they stuck to her foot. “Ah, Fuck!” 

“Language!”   
__________________________ 

When Maura was done with the autopsy, she looked up to see Jane standing at the doorway, observing her. When Jane knew Maura was finished, she ambled over to her and sat on the free autopsy table next to Maura. Maura took off her gloves as Jane watched. 

“Did you find the same message in the throat as found in the other bodies?”

Jane leaned forward, balancing herself by holding the ends of the table with both hands. Maura took off her face mask and placed it on the tray beside the table, and nodded. 

“Yes, like the others, the message was typed, and placed in a ziploc bag. The exact same phrase.” 

“Yeah?”

Jane paced back and forth as she continued with the questions.

“What about the stab wounds? Are they consistent with those on the other two bodies?”

“I was able to determine that this man's hands were impaled with a rusty implement, most likely an iron spike of some description. I was right when I said the reddish brown stain wasn't blood. Not wholly. There was rust as well.”

“Hah, I'll give you that!”

Maura continued as if Jane hadn't spoken.

“There isn't enough information to determine which type of spike given the evidence.” 

Jane groaned and rolled her eyes. 

“Ah, come on! It's probably a rusty nail!”

Maura ignored her comment and continued; 

“You see here the stab wound.”

Pointing to the wound on the right hand side of the torso, Maura beckoned to Jane, who peered closer at the wound. 

“Interestingly, the length and diameter of the wound indicates a long, narrow tapered blade was used. A sword of some description, and the mark left behind by the hilt indicates something like a rapier.”

Jane looked up at Maura with interest. 

“A rapier? That's strange. Not many people now would use such a weapon. That would help us narrow our investigation.”

Maura nodded, walking towards her office, Jane following her. 

“Another thing, this time, the path of the wound shows some hesitancy marks, and this time the rapier did not pierce the heart. Unlike the other two cases, where there were no hesitancy marks, and the rapier slid through the ribs, this man's ribs were hit twice before the rapier went through and sliced through the liver, the aorta and the lungs, both lungs, causing double pneumothorax, which is air in the lung cavity, but the cause of death was massive internal bleeding. 

Jane paused, nodding solemnly. 

“Would the findings indicate a different killer this time?”

Jane asked with mock formality. 

Maura sassed, “I don't guess.” 

“Ah, go on, ok, what would you say, based on the science, hmm?” Jane asked, with a twinkle in her eye. 

Maura smiled at her, before folding her arms,  
“All I will say is the first two bodies show no hesitancy marks, and the sword pierced the heart, and the current victim's heart wasn't pierced, but the aorta was, and there were hesitancy marks. I'll type up the autopsy reports for you, and I'll text you when they are ready, then you can detect.” 

Jane smiled.   
“Great. Ok, see you later, I have to talk to Frost. I'll be back. Don't go anywhere.”

Maura laughed at that.   
“Where else would I go? I'll be here. That's perfectly fine, come back here when you're ready and we'll go to the Dirty Robber. See you later.”

With a friendly smile, Jane nodded as she left the room, heading back to the Bullpen. 

__________________________   
A few hours later, when Jane got the report from Maura, she joined Frost and Korsak at the Bullpen. 

The faces of the three victims were displayed with their details underneath, on the big computer screens. 

The three detectives sat facing the screens, discussing the case. 

Korsak looked over at Jane, asking , “Tell us about the results of the latest autopsy, Jane. Similar to the others?”

Looking through the report, Jane nodded.   
“Yes, each hand was impaled with a rusty implement, a rapier-like sword, which was also used to pierce the heart, a failed attempt in the latest case, and the stake through the feet is made of old wood, as indicated by the dust and rust. Frost, could you pull up the photos of the three victims side by side so we can compare them?”

Frost looked at his computer, and did what Jane asked. The three detectives looked at the three pictures. Korsak made an observation which merely made the others nod. 

“So we know that the killer has some sort of obsession with Jesus’ crucifixion. The injuries on all three victims were found on Jesus as he died on the cross, including the crown of thorns. Go on, tell us, the bible phrase is the same, I bet” 

Jane looked back in the file in her hands. 

“Yes, the exact same phrase. If we can work out the significance to the killer, perhaps it could help us.” 

Frost pulled up the phrase in question and the words jumped onto the screen. 

Isaiah 45:7  
I form the light, and create darkness:  
I make peace, and create evil:  
I the Lord do all these things.

He was the first to break the silence.” Rather creepy, if you look at it. Ambiguous, too. Maybe the killer has a God complex? Or perhaps it is something to do with retribution, that these men were in positions of power and ended up doing 'evil'? Hm, the sooner we identify these victims the better. It's very strange that there doesn't seem to be dental records for any of the victims. And it certainly makes things more challenging for us.”

Jane looked at the file again, then remembered what Maura said back in the morgue earlier.   
“Maura said something very interesting earlier. The differences.”

Jane explained the variations, and the others nodded. 

Frost remarked,   
“I'm not certain that there is only one killer. As you pointed out, the first two victims were killed by someone with a good knowledge of human anatomy, while the last victim was killed by a different person, who may have been less experienced.” 

Korsak agreed, before they heard a loud gasp, which made the three detectives turn around. Sister Winifred Callahan stood at the door, holding on to the doorframe, with a shocked expression on her face. 

“Sister, are you alright? Do you recognize these men?” Jane asked in a very soft voice. 

The nun nodded, speechlessly.


	2. chapter two

DISCLAIMER:

Borrowing the characters of the tv show "Rizzoli and Isles", and not profiting from this.

Many thanks to emotionsovrflow for her beta reading.

CHAPTER 2

The Holy Joe Killer

Frost looked at Jane before asking Sister Winifred to join them in the interview room to help them with the case. Jane hurriedly grabbed the relevant folders, catching up with the others. When they arrived at the interview room, Jane sat down facing Sr. Winifred, while Frost readied the tape recorder. When it was all set, he nodded. Jane gave a warm look to the nun, encouraging her to begin her statement.

"Sister, when you are ready, you can tell us what you remember and who these men were."

The nun nodded.

"I remember these men from Dublin, Ireland. You see, I was part of the Boston delegation to the International Eucharistic Congress, which was held in Dublin in 2012. The IEC is a very important event in the Catholic Church. Held every few years, Catholics come together to celebrate the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist."

Frost asked her to clarify.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what this means. Can you explain a bit, in case it might be relevant? Thanks, Sister."

The nun looked at him before realising he was being serious. Frost looked at her steadily, waiting for her response with a warm expression on his face.

"No problem. The Eucharist is a Christian sacrament, where the last supper of Jesus Christ, before he was crucified, is commemorated by the eating of bread and drinking of wine. We believe that it is actually the blood and body of Christ.

"Well, at the American Embassy in Dublin, there was a banquet for the American IEC delegation. That's where I met these men."

At this point, her voice wavered. Jane put her hand on the nun's. "I know it must be hard for you. We really appreciate your assistance." the nun sniffed away a tear, trying to contain her upset, and bravely nodded, saying "anything I can do to help you with your investigations." Jane smiled warmly and beckoned at the photographs, gently drawing the sister's attention to the gruesome images.

"So these men were at the IEC with you. Were they also part of the Boston delegation? Do you remember their names? As you said, anything you say would be really helpful."

"No. I mean, they were American, yes, but not from Boston. For some reason, though, they stuck with us in the Boston delegation. I'm sorry, I cannot remember their names."

Jane let out a sigh of disappointment, but the nun continued.

"However I think I can still help. It's rather complicated, from what I remember. There were about five priests, these men were priests."

Jane sat up, interested, pointing at the photographs.

"Yes, that's a lead of sorts. Good, ok, so they were Catholic priests, yes?"

Sr Winifred nodded,

"Yes, they were, and what stood out about them was that they went everywhere together. They were not very warm people. That may be due to personality, I don't know, but they drew attention to themselves when I attempted to ask them to move their seats so more room would be made at the banquet for others. This man," pointing to the photo of the second victim, "scolded me for having the temerity to address him in such a fashion, and the five of them refused to budge. Even for the security staff. They only moved when the ambassador himself asked them, and with marked reluctance, even then."

Jane looked at her, asking:

"So would you say they had a superiority complex of some sort? Or why would they treat you with such disdain?"

Sister Winifred shifted in her seat, shaking her head.

"I don't know, but they had this air of entitlement. They did not even appreciate my talking to them, never mind asking them to move. They didn't seem to respect anyone apart from themselves."

Jane nodded, before continuing,

"I see. Could you tell us your impression of each person? You said there were five. The three victims and two more. Apart from this air of entitlement you noticed, was there anything else about them? What about the internal group dynamic? Any leaders in that group?"

The nun frowned, trying to remember, glancing around the room, then looking down at the table.

Sucking in her upper lip, she looked up, glancing at the photographs, pointing at the first victim.

"This priest was the most friendly of the five, but not by much. He did not really have any time for women, preferring the company of other priests. He particularly detested lay women. He would only address a woman if she was wearing a nun's habit. I was wearing one and hence he spoke to me once, asking me something. The other two victims, I can't really remember anything about them apart from their attitude and their cold offhand manner, I'm sorry. It's been such a long time."

Frost nodded. "That's ok," he said, reassuring her that she was still very helpful.

"Did you get the impression that these priests were homosexual?"

Sister Winifred smiled sardonically before shaking her head.

"I don't think so. They did not seem to want to touch anyone. They came across as being very asexual."

Frost nodded, understanding what the nun meant, thinking to himself "Some Catholic priests were asexual alright." Jane could only sit there red faced pretending to look through the case files, not comfortable talking about sexuality with this particular nun. Changing the subject and veering away from sexuality, Jane asked the nun about the other two men in the group.

Sister Winifred pondered for a moment.

"Come to think of it... you asked about the group dynamic. The other two were very much part of the group, but one was slightly older than the victims, and one slightly younger. The younger one was the quiet one. He did everything asked of him by the others. Anyone else, he ignored. He had a particularly creepy manner. The older man was extremely cold, more so than the others, but apart from this coldness in his personality, there was nothing else. The only priest who had any interactions with them was my parish priest, Father O'Brien. He might be better able to help with your investigations."

Jane looked up at the nun, smiling at her.

"Fr. Dermot O'Brien of St. Dominic's? He was the priest who gave me my First Confession and first Holy Communion. That's a blast from the past!Thanks, you've been a great help today."

"Anything at all."

Jane smiled at her once again and nodded.

Frost stood up before remarking: "Anything else we think of, we'll ask you, but thanks once again."

Leaving the interview room, Sister Winifred left to get a cup of coffee while the detectives returned to their desks.

In the Bullpen, the three detectives discussed the case further, before agreeing the next logical step was to go to St. Dominic's to interview Fr. O'Brien. By general consensus, Frost was to ask the questions, while Jane took notes, while Korsak would check the files again, completing the paperwork. All set, Jane and Frost stood up, while Korsak grunted as he proceeded with his work.

Grabbing their coats, the pair left the bullpen and made their way to the church. As they left the building, an elderly man sitting on the bench opposite the BPD noted the direction they were going. He picked up his mobile phone and tapped a few keys. When the other person answered the call, he confirmed that Jane Rizzoli was based at the BPD at this station. He listened to the instructions. "Understood."


	3. chapter 3

DISCLAIMER:

Borrowing the characters of the tv show "Rizzoli and Isles", and not profiting from this.

Many thanks to emotionsovrflow for her beta reading.

A/N apologies for the mistake I made earlier when uploading this chapter. Many thanks to the reader who alerted me to this.

The Holy Joe Killer

Chapter 3

On the way to the church, Jane and Frost sat in silence listening to the radio commenting on the weather, as Frost drove.

"It's gonna be a dry day today with no precipitation, humidity's at 29%. The wind speed is 18mph from the northeast. It will be a pleasant 61 degrees..."

Jane fiddled with the dials, and changed stations, until she heard rock playing. Both Frost and Jane moved their heads slightly, in tune with the music. "Who wants to hear about the weather? This is much better! Oy, what color green are you waiting for, buddy? Move it!"

Frost chuckled as he pressed the accelerator, driving on, both listening to the music for the next fifteen minutes it took to get to the church. As they had rang the sacristy first, Father O'Brien was there waiting for them when they arrived.

Frost looked at the priest before turning to Jane. "Is that Father O'Brien? He's built like a retired linebacker." He couldn't have been more correct. The priest in question played football as a hobby over the years. At six feet three inches tall with a stocky muscular frame, the affable, balding, red haired priest with blue eyes was looking at the car as it pulled up the drive, eagerly waiting to greet them. He was especially looking forward to seeing Jane Rizzoli as he was her gym coach at school, and she was one of his favorite pupils over the years.

As soon as Jane and Frost got out of the car, he rushed over to them and grabbed Jane's hand before she had an excuse to avoid it, and gave her a bone-crushing handshake. Yelping in pain, Jane hastily removed her hand from the vice-grip and massaged her palm. Fr. O'Brien looked at her with concern.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I did not mean to hurt you, people are always berating me about my strong handshakes. "

He glanced down and noticed the marks on the palms of her hands. He took a step back and extended his fingers back;

Oh, you have scars? Ah, that's right, there was something about someone impaling your hands on a case a while ago. I am extremely sorry. I forgot all about it, I was so happy to see you."

His face showed genuine regret at the pain he had caused, so Jane was mollified, but she still did not like the fuss he was making over her hands. Jane shrugged it off and took out her pen and notepad, in order to prevent any further unwanted touches of her hands by anyone. She decided not to say anything further about it with the priest but to have Maura look at it later.

"It's ok, Father. Don't worry about it. It's good to see you after so long. How are you? Still teaching the right way to hit baseballs and throwing footballs at the school?"

Chuckling, Fr. O'Brien smiled wryly at her, "I'm a bit long in the tooth for that. I'm now relegated to being a baseball umpire. It's just not the same! I'm now considered too old even for the veterans teams. Such is the joy of being 78 years of age! Well, I'm quite happy being the parish priest. Now, who is this young man with you?"

Jane smiled at the priest, turning to Frost before introducing the two men.

"Here's my partner, Detective Frost. He will ask you the questions while I take notes. Frost, Fr. O'Brien was my gym coach, and taught me well. He's the reason I am so good at sports!"

"Ah, you are being kind to an old man here! Pleased to meet you, Detective Frost!"

The priest offered his meaty hand for a handshake. Frost, being mindful of the priest's vice-like grip, took that into account and shook hands with the priest accordingly.

"Pleased to meet you, Father O'Brien."

"Ah, I like you, young man. You have a good strong handshake." Fr. O'Brien beamed at him, as Frost surreptitiously massaged his palm, grimacing trying to smile back. Jane chuckled to herself at Frost's discomfiture. She turned to the elderly priest and spoke to him.

"Thank you for being willing to see us at such short notice. Is there somewhere we could go so we could have a chat?"

Father O'Brien nodded and agreed that it would be best to have the conversation in his office, so he led the way, walking past the sacristy toward their destination. He turned to the detectives and introduced them to two middle aged women.

The one at the computer, Violet, had medium length greying hair and spectacles. Francine, the other woman standing near the filing cabinet by the window, was a vivacious woman with a penchant for gossip, and wearing a blouse and a pair of jodhpurs that were fashionable in the 1980s, with a hairstyle and glasses to match.

When Fr. O'Brien introduced Violet as the parish secretary for the last few years, the detectives looked at her, only to be met with a cold gaze. Violet, who looked up from her old yellowing computer monitor that still used Windows 98, coolly looked Jane up and down disapprovingly, thinking to herself "what on earth is a woman doing in such a dangerous job, and dressed like that? She's not very feminine. Maybe one of these dykes? And a darkie detective as well?!" Sniffing to herself she pretended to wipe her nose with a paper tissue. Jane did not miss that and took mental note of her.

The priest continued,

"Remember the detectives who rang asking to meet me? This is Detectives Jane Rizzoli and Frost, I don't think I got your first name?"

Before Frost could reply, Violet looked at Jane and spoke with a clipped and curt tone, "pleased to meet you, I'm sure", she said smoothly, ignoring Frost totally, then looked back at the priest, as to see what she could do for them. She was annoyed as they interrupted her, she was in the middle of a game of solitaire, after all.

The priest noted Violet's abruptness as well, and intended to have a quiet word with her later. "There was no need for such rudeness", he thought to himself. Frost was about to offer his hand to Violet, but she returned to her game of solitaire, shutting him out completely. Jane raised her eyebrows at this woman, before glancing at Frost. Fr. O'Brien frowned at Violet thinking to himself If she continues like that with visitors, I'll have to discuss her role at the Parish office with the other priests.

The elderly priest continued, introducing the other, more friendly, woman.

"Francine looks after the parish affairs when I'm in the community doing outreach work."

Francine beamed at the detectives, shook hands with Frost then when she went to approach Jane to do the same, Jane apologised, writing in her notepad, not accepting the proffered hand. Being an easy going sort, the older woman did not take offence, as she saw the fiasco earlier on from the window when Fr. O'Brien nearly crushed Jane's hand. She beckoned to the electric kettle at the small kitchenette near the office.

"Detectives, would you like a cup of tea or coffee, and perhaps some cookies?"

Jane shook her head with a smile. "No, thank you very much, we are fine, we would like to ask some questions." At this point, the clock struck twelve thirty. Violet stood up and left the office, taking her purse and coat with her, offhandedly speaking over her shoulder, "See you tomorrow."

Francine sat down at the computer, while looking amiably at the detectives, wondering what they wanted to talk about. She carried on with her work, replying to emails the parishioners sent, as Fr. O'Brien and the detectives sat down around his desk, while eavesdropping on the conversation that took place between the detectives and the Parish Priest.

"So what can I do for you?"

Frost began by showing the priest the photos of the three victims, and asked if the priest could identify them. "Oh my..." the priest sat back, ashen faced. "Yes, I knew them, they were in the same class I was in, at my seminary during my training for the priesthood. I was there at the Boston Catholic Seminary from 1955 to 1962. We were ordained priests just as the Second Vatican Council formally opened, so we were the last of the old priests in Boston to be ordained in the old style traditional Catholic Church, before the changes wrought by the Second Vatican Council took place."

Jane looked up at him and took notes, while Frost nodded, encouraging the old man to continue. He peered closely at the photographs shakily, then putting his finger on the photograph in the middle.

"The man in this photo seems to be Father John Collins. The last time we spoke was when we were in Ireland a few years ago."

Frost leaned forward while Jane observed the priest.

"Yes, can you tell me more about Father Collins? What was he like as a man, as a priest?"

Fr. O'Brien was silent for a moment before he spoke.

"Father Collins was a traditionalist priest, he did not like the reforms effected by the Second Vatican Council. He was very much a priest of the old order. He was rather, dare I say, unforgiving when it came to lapses in morality. Yet if you knew him you'd know that he was a gourmand. He never could say no to second helpings and was quite fond of the drink."

Jane looked once again at the photograph of the dead man, and noted that he was morbidly obese, so there was something in what Fr. O'Brien said. Frost remembered something Sr. Winifred mentioned about Father Collins, so he asked the priest about it, to see his perspective on the dead man.

"Did he have a problem with women?"

Fr. O'Brien looked up at Frost and thought about it.

"Come to think of it, he was friendly enough with other priests but did not engage with women, and with laymen only if necessary. When we were seminarians he wasn't like that, but once the 1960s started, he became more and more disapproving of women. The talk of flower power and free love only made him angry. He would not serve hippies if they came up to him for communion. He preferred the old Catholic church, where people respected God and behaved properly at Masses, dressing appropriately, and the churches were of the old and imposing styles. He felt that the current Catholic Church lost its way, and was more Protestant than ever. He did not approve of that at all."

The priest looked earnestly at both Jane and Frost, before continuing.

"I remember this heated discussion in Dublin, on this topic. There were five priests I remember, who were firmly convinced that the Catholic Church was no longer Catholic, and they were condemning the way the IEC was managed in Dublin in 2012, compared to the last time it was held there, in 1932. Back in 1932, the streets were lined with holy pictures and processional parades were very popular, but in 2012, it was far more secular in Dublin. They just would not take into account that society and people have changed. The priests in question blamed the Second Vatican Council for the change in the direction of the Church. Since people no longer had the traditional guidance of the Catholic Church, in their opinion, it was not surprising that we lived in what he called an evil society."

Frost raised his eyebrows at this. Jane stopped writing and glanced up at the priest, who continued.

"They were so entrenched in their views they would not even entertain any opposition. They are traditionalist Catholics who oppose the Second Vatican Council changes."

The elderly priest shrugged .

Frost thought about it and asked:

"So these priests want things to go back to the traditional way, that much is clear, thanks for this. Could you identify the other victim killed, and give us the names of the other two priests in that group? And also anything else about them?"

Father O'Brien looked at the picture of the first victim and identified him as Father Timothy Malone.

"Fr. Timmy was parish priest of... Could I ask Francine here about him?"

Frost nodded, so Fr. O'Brien called over to Francine, who looked up eagerly.

"Francine, can you help me help the detectives with their questions? Remember Fr. Timmy? Can you tell me where he was parish priest?"

Francine frowned for a minute and said something interesting.

"I think the last I heard he was transferred from one parish to another, that he's not parish priest anymore? There was talk about him taking advantage of elderly parishioners, helping himself to their money, particularly the ones with dementia."

Fr. O'Brien nodded, "Yes, I heard talk of that, but surely these detectives would prefer the actual facts and not gossip?"

Jane reassured him that whatever they could tell them would be very helpful, and that it was their job to go through the information. Fr. O'Brien and Francine nodded at this. Francine was the first to speak.

"He was parish priest in Wisconsin somewhere, and we heard about this in Dublin, when I was talking to some people who were very angry with him for taking advantage of their elderly relatives. Suspicions were raised when he started living the lifestyle of the rich and famous, with expensive home renovations, classy cars and clothes. What about the vow of poverty?"

Francine sniffed.

"Their suspicions were confirmed when some of these demented people were sent to care homes and the relatives started taking care of their accounts, as they had something, I think it is PAO, or POA, or something like that?"

Jane nodded. "Powers of attorney?"

Francine assented,

"Yes, that's what it is, as the old people could no longer take care of their affairs, so their relatives did the work. Hence the discovery. They wanted to press charges but then he suddenly left. Now I see he's murdered."

Frost nodded, then pointed to the photograph of the latest victim.

"What about this third victim?"

Francine sniffed.

"I don't know his name but he was a horrible person to be around."

Fr. O'Brien nodded, "He did have this superior attitude, even as a seminarian. It's because he came from a very wealthy family. He was so used to having maids and manservants cater to his every need while growing up that he resented being told what to do at the seminary, and being expected to muck in with the others doing the daily chores. We had to do our own chores at the seminary. He's Fr. Stephen Devereaux."

Jane repeated the names to ensure she had them written down correctly.

"Fathers John Collins, Timothy Malone, with the nickname of Fr Timmy, and Stephen Devereaux. Thanks, Father."

Frost picked up the photographs off the table and put them back in the folder before concluding his questioning.

"Anything else you could tell us about these priests? What about the other two who are, presumably, still alive?"

Fr. O'Brien stood up and started pacing the room with a frown.

"I don't know much about them apart from the days we spent together at the seminary and in Dublin. One is now a Monsignor, Monsignor Stan Smith, he used to be an army chaplain while in Vietnam, working as a counsellor helping the soldiers with their problems."

The priest looked frankly at the detectives, pausing briefly.

"At the seminary he kept very much to himself as he was a late convert. He was in his twenties when we were a few years younger, even though we were in the same class. He was very studious and academic, not having time for socialising. He was very much a man of the cloth, preferring the regime and structure offered by the pre-Vatican II Catholic church."

Looking apologetically at Jane, he sighed, rubbing his face.

"Smith had no patience for lapsed Catholics saying they had no excuse for turning their backs on God. In Dublin last year, he made a lot of people angry when he said that they were not true Catholics, not wearing appropriate clothes to Masses, the women going around without veils on their heads, and the men not wearing suits, but casual attire, and this business of eating meat on Fridays, the masses being conducted in English, and not in Latin, and other things."

Jane scribbled all this in her notebook, and beckoned at the priest to continue, with a nod.

"The other priest was a new first year seminarian when we were doing our final year. His name is Father Peter McCauley. For some reason, McCauley and Smith got on very well, as they shared the same worldview, and they met a lot in the library discussing points of theology. We normally spot the homosexual ones quite early on, but we did not see this between the two. They only met for study at the library. A lot of us used to nickname them "the Tiny Giant pair", as Monsignor Smith is a tall man, the tallest man at the seminary when I was there, at six foot seven, but very thin. He was not sporty at all, so he did not develop muscles. He had a very weak handshake, if he deigned to shake hands at all."

Father O'Brien snorted at this before continuing.

"Father McCauley was quite the opposite in stature. He is a short man, about five feet three, and very overweight. I did not know anything about him as he was not sporty at all, preferring to spend his time reading books and discussing things with Smith. The two of them were always together at the library, except when attending their respective classes."

"Thank you for all your help, Father O'Brien and Francine."

The two detectives smiled at the others as they left the office, and returned to the car.

Frost drove back to BPD while Jane massaged her right hand as it was still hurting from the handshake. She was glad it was her right hand and not her left hand otherwise she would not have been able to write at all.

She picked up her phone and sent a text to Maura.

Maura, can I see you when we return? Hand very sore.

The reply was prompt.

Of course you can. What happened?

As Jane texted explaining what happend, Frost was fiddling with the car radio until he heard music he enjoyed, and soon they were moving their heads in keeping with the music.

Shook hands with someone who crushed my hand in greeting.

After a few minutes in traffic, Jane's phone buzzed.

Oh, that's not good at all. You need a massage. Come to me when you get in.

Jane smiled to herself and texted back.

Thanks Maura. See you soon.


	4. chapter 4

DISCLAIMER

Borrowing the characters of the tv show "Rizzoli and Isles", and not profiting from this.

A/N this is not beta read yet, but I will upload this anyway, and when I get this corrected, I will re-upload this chapter. Not sure if you prefer weekly updates, or you'd rather wait until you get the beta read chapters.

Chapter 4

The Holy Joe Killer

Maura looked up from her laptop when she heard Jane's characteristically loping strides coming up to her office. She stood up and walked towards the door, when she saw Jane. Jane let go of the mask of indifference and revealed the agony she felt.

"The hand... it's so sore! Oh Maura, can you help?"

Pulling out a chair, Maura beckoned for Jane to sit down while she pulled out an analgesic gel from her drawer that she had on hand for Jane's hands as needed, which was quite often. Gently, she palpated Jane's right hand and noted the spasms of pain on her face.

"That must have been a very strong handshake, to leave your hand in this condition."

At this Jane rolled her eyes and sarcastically retorted, "Ya think?"

Maura stopped and looked at Jane. "Is that sarcasm? If so, if you want me to help, less sarcasm would be appreciated."

Jane had the grace to look sheepish. After rubbing her eyebrow, she looked up into Maura's eyes and admitted she really needed her help.

"Sorry, please continue with your massage, it's helping."

Maura nodded and carried on massaging Jane's hand, and when the pain was abated somewhat, the analgesic gel was applied, and Maura changed the type of massage from medical to soothing. Jane's hand was much better when Maura stopped.

"Please give me your other hand. I have to massage it as well, in order to balance you."

Jane did not object to this yoga-speak as she enjoyed the hand massages she got from Maura so she knew what to expect. Maura changed from the gel to a typical massage oil, after washing her hands, to remove the gel before applying the massage oils, so this time the left hand was purely for pleasure.

When Maura concentrated on each finger, and the palm, rubbing away the tensions and knots she found there, Jane was looking at Maura, her hair, her skin and her face, inhaling in her sweet scent, combined with the aromas of the gel and oils. and listening to her breathing. Maura was enjoying Jane too. Enjoying the musculature of Jane's arms and fingers, the shape of her phalanges, the feel of her skin while massaging her. Both women enjoyed the moment, as it was their thing.

When Maura finished both hands, she stopped, remarking that the injury sustained in the handshake needed a repeat massage later on in the evening. Jane thought about it, before agreeing to go home with Maura for her hand-massage that evening after their visit to the Dirty Robber to see Constance.

"See you later, Maura, and thanks very much for doing my hands. You're good at massaging. Drinks on me at the Dirty Robber. I have to do my typing which I can do now without being distracted by the pain."

With that, she stood up and smiled. Maura smiled, and reminded her that all she needed to do was to ask, and Maura would help her out. She then returned to her laptop when Jane disappeared from view. She smiled once again before focusing on typing the latest report.

...

Constance Isles enjoyed the walk from the hotel she was staying at, as the balmy evening air was refreshing, and she needed the exercise as she was sitting all day at the conference she had to attend as the Isles Foundation Representative. As she entered the Dirty Robber, her class and elegance grabbed the attention of some of the regulars, who for the most part left her alone, with the exception of Giovanni, who was with one of his customers about a car, and having a drink.

Constance looked around and saw that she was there earlier than expected, as Maura and Jane were not there yet. So without further ado, she walked up to the bar and ordered a bottle of mineral water, remembering the atrocious chalkiness of the wine at this establishment. Once the bartender served her her water, she looked around for a place to sit down, selecting a booth where she could see the door. She settled down, and took a sip before looking into her purse for her smart-phone, as she wanted to make a phone call to her secretary to check her schedule for the rest of the weekend as she intended to spend more time with Maura.

Giovanni smiled at his customer, shaking hands with him. He stood up to go to the bar for another bottle of beer, he saw the elegantly dressed lady sitting by herself in the booth, at the window, looking into the phone. When his customer left, and he paid the bartender for the beer, he did what came naturally to him, and made a beeline for her.

"Hello! What's a hot classy lady doing here all by yourself? I'm Giovanni Gilberti. What's your name?"

Without waiting to see if it was ok for him to sit down, or indeed if his presence was welcomed, he sat down beside her. At this rude interruption, Constance was extremely irritated and replied coldly,

"Thank you, Mr Gilberti but I am waiting for people to arrive."

The coldness of her tone did not phase Giovanni as he smiled lopsidedly at her and leaned over at her saying, "I'm sure we can chat until they come." Appalled, Constance did not appreciate his familiarity in addressing her in this manner. Struggling to remain polite, she curtly nodded, and tried to repel him with a dismissive statement. "I'm sure you have other things to be doing." Naturally he remained oblivious to the strength of her disdain of him, but noted there was something wrong, so he tried to mollify her.

"Ah, I'm just shooting the breeze with you. I'm a mechanic, so if you have any problems with your car I can help you for a very reasonable price."

Giving him a quick once over, she noticed his oil-stained fingernails and the rough skin on his hands. She decided to be a bit more direct as he wasn't picking up on her cues to leave her alone.

"I don't think so. If I ever have problems with one of my cars, I would simply ask my personal mechanic to have a look. And there's always my daughter, Maura, who's quite an accomplished mechanic in her own right."

"You have your own personal mechanic? Damn, I could give him a run for his money... whoa, wait a minute? Maura? I know a Maura, Jane Rizzoli's hot chick. Maura's a medical examiner, Maura Isles."

Smiling appreciatively, he nodded and belched after gulping his beer. Constance winced at this. Giovanni did not notice this as he continued gossiping about the two women in question. "Ah Jane and Maura. Two extremely hot ladies. Damn! What a shame."

At this, Constance had enough and had to ask him to explain himself.

"I beg your pardon? You know Maura and Jane?" Giovanni's eyes widened as he recalled Constance's words. "So you're THAT Maura's mother?" He whistled, before eyeing her up and down. "Whooo, I can see she got her class from you. Yes I do. Well, I know Jane and her family."

Repelled with his crass vulgarity, she merely replied with a non-committal "Oh, I see."

He continued, " Mrs Rizzoli had a spot of bother with her car so I helped her out, it's only right, seeing that she was very good to me growing up. That's how I got to meet Maura. We had a good thing going until Maura told me that she was with Jane. Talk about letting a guy down. Hey, you mean to tell me that Maura is good at tinkering with engines? I didn't know that."

Constance could hardly believe her ears at his words. "You went out with Maura?!" Looking at him critically, she could see a certain macho appeal in him, but was a bit disappointed in Maura for going out with him when there were so many better alternatives to choose from. He looked at her guilelessly and smiled.

"Sure did. She was really classy, but it's not meant to be. She's Jane's chick, and no one else can get in. Jane Rizzoli is one lucky woman indeed. They're so in love with each other it's hard for me, what can I say, I'm a red blooded male, and to see these two hot chicks so into each other is such a hard thing for me, but I'm glad they are so happy. Damn! Such a shame!" He shrugged and leaned closer to Constance, who leaned back, recoiling from his beer and garlic-laden breath.

Disbelievingly, Constance queried his words. "Maura and Jane? Together? Are you sure?" Giovanni shrugged and looked at Constance with honest eyes, "Oh yeah, they're always together, holding hands and so on."

Constance found this most interesting, though troubling, that a stranger saw fit to discuss Maura like that with her in such a candid and inappropriate manner, and wondered briefly whether Giovanni was crass enough to joke with her about such a thing. Looking into his brown eyes, she saw that he was quite serious. Maura never said anything to her about her feelings for Jane. Hmm, knowing Maura as she did, it seemed to be quite serious if she didn't tell her about it.

Constance thought back to the time when she first met Jane, and how Jane dressed her down for neglecting Maura. Yes, that was something someone who held Maura in high regard would do. Would Jane be in love with her? But she had a man in her life, Casey? She found this intriguing. How about Maura? She always suspected Maura had these feelings for Jane, but if they were seeing each other and not tell her about it, it must be quite serious? She would talk to Maura about it, and find out what was happening. With a loud burp, Giovanni beckoned towards the door.

"Maura's here!"

Maura beamed when she saw Constance, but wasn't sure who the man was, sitting beside her.

"Hello Mother!" She stopped when she saw it was Giovanni. Less friendly this time, she greeted him. Giovanni was chatting in his usual bumbling fashion, "Hey, my hot chick! How's Jane? Where's she? Normally you're always together?" Turning to Constance, he spoke to her once again, "Hey, I never see them apart. Today's the first time." Constance raised her eyebrows at his casual address. "Hmm. I see." Maura flinched at his words, especially as Constance was looking at her most pointedly. Maura knew they were going to have a conversation when they returned from the Dirty Robber.

What ON Earth did Giovanni say to Mother before I came?

Maura thought to herself agitatedly. Flushed, Maura replied, "She'll be here soon, once she's finished work." Constance glanced at Maura before looking at Giovanni again. She had to get rid of this man, as Maura's discomfort was evident.

"Mr. Gilberti, as my daughter is now here I would appreciate it very much if you could leave us alone for the time being? Thank you for your... erm... company while I was waiting for her to arrive."

He smiled at her and bowed, before leaving. "Any time, Missus Isles. Maura, talk again another time."

Maura smiled woodenly, offering a stiff wiggle of her fingers waving him off. Constance noted her lukewarm reaction to Giovanni. Alone, Maura and Constance sat there in silence. Worried hazel eyes looked into calm and questioning grey eyes. Constance began.

"Maura, we really need to have a chat. That man said a few interesting things about you. However, this establishment is not the right place for this kind of conversation. However, can you explain? Briefly?"

Quietly, Maura nodded. "I can allay your fears immediately, Mother. There is nothing untoward going on between us, except what is in his imagination. I'll explain everything later on." Constance exhaled and smiled. "I look forward to hearing what you have to say." Maura's eyes widened when she saw Giovanni sit down at another table and not leave the Dirty Robber as she expected. Slightly panicked, she spoke in hushed tones, "Mother, when Jane comes and sees Giovanni, please do not be surprised when you see us act a bit like a couple, it was the only way we could get Giovanni to leave me alone."

Constance was amazed at Maura for doing such a thing to get rid of him instead of telling him to go away, as adults would, but she remembered his stubbornness when she tried to get him to leave her alone while waiting for Maura. With an arched eyebrow, Constance merely looked at her, and was about to reply when Jane entered the bar.

"Oh, good evening Constance! How are you? It's very good to see you! Hello there Maura!"

Her eyes lighting up, Constance warmly returned the greeting. "As always, it's a pleasure to see you. It's been too long! I was just about to tell Maura here about a conversation I had with a young man, he's over there, Mr Gilberti, I think his name is."

With a groan, Jane looked over at him and affirmed that his name was indeed Giovanni Gilberti. He looked up and saw Jane. Maura quickly brought Jane up to speed, and Constance nodded. So Jane knew what had to be done.

Giovanni ambled over to talk to her. Jane was very direct with him, knowing how Maura was feeling. "I believe you were talking to Mrs Isles here about us?" "Yes, I was telling her how classy she was, any woman would love to hear that, y'know, and..." "WHAT? How on earth could you address Mrs Isles like that, Maura's mother, with such disrespect? I think you owe her an apology."

Giovanni was taken aback at this and tried to clear the air, with a apologetic look at Jane. "Hey, I wasn't insulting her, but complimenting her, what's the harm in that?" Rolling her eyes, Jane enunciated her words clearly, "Ok, Thank you. Now, please leave us be, as we need to talk about something very serious, you know." With that, Jane sat down beside Maura, and put her arm around Maura's shoulder. Constance found this very entertaining, and smiled broadly. Giovanni looked at her, and misunderstood. "Yes, they look good together, No one can get between them. Not even me. Damn. Well, have a good evening, ladies."

After Giovanni returned to his pals, Constance continued smiling and commented on the situation. "How long has this been going on for?" Maura and Jane looked at each other before Maura replied. "almost two years now." At this, Constance widened her eyes. "yeah, about that, he is such a leech, it's very hard to get him to stop trying to pick Maura up, so we are doing this for as long as needed. Since he's looking over at us, please pardon us as we carry on with this charade." Constance smiled and nodded, all the more convinced that a talk was necessary later on, with the two of them, and not just Maura, but Maura on her own first.

So Jane carried on in the same position with her arm loosely draped around Maura, the shorter woman leaning and resting her head on Jane's shoulder. Maura noticed something, so she reached out and picked a piece of fluff off Jane's shirt and flicked it away. Constance watched the two of them, and noted the doe eyes each woman had for each other. Maura sighed happily and Jane smiled, resting her chin on Maura's head. Jane rubbed Maura's arm gently, saying she had to stand up. Constance saw Maura's reluctance to move though she tried to hide it well.

Jane asked the others what drinks they would like, as she was headed for the bar. "Constance, I see that your drink is nearly finished. Would you like another glass of mineral water?" The older woman replied with a smile, that she would love another glass of mineral water. Nodding, returning the smile, Jane then turned to Maura, then raised her eyebrows questioningly. "I'd love to have the beer you get for me when I am in the mood for beer. I'm in the mood now. Not in the mood for the wines available here." Jane and Constance looked at Maura before glancing at each other. "Are you alright, Maura?" Maura nodded at Jane, so Jane went to the bar.

"I never knew you were a beer drinker!" Constance whispered at Maura. "Ordinarily no, I'm not. It's only the one brand of beer I drink and it's seldom at that, I much prefer wine, as you know, but today upset me so." Constance reached out and placed her hand on top of her daughter's. "I'll keep quiet for now and do as you say, but you really need to explain things to me later on. Myself and Jane are here for you." Maura smiled, comforted by her mother's words and nodded.

At the bar, there was a gaunt small elderly man near where Giovanni and his pals were sitting. He seemed very self-contained but he was taking everything in. He had to, for the Master. He followed Jane here, to see what extra information he could glean from the place about her, in order to inform the Master. He was writing in his notebook, in shorthand things that he noticed, that might come useful. The first thing noted was the unnatural interaction between Jane and Maura. So when Jane approached, he made sure to look into his drink, and appear not to take any notice when she ordered the drinks.

When a little old lady came up to Jane asking if she would buy raffle tickets for the Catholic Orphans of Boston charity, Jane made sure to buy three tickets, one for each woman. The old woman asked her about names and phone numbers. The elderly man listened carefully as Jane gave her name, then Maura and Constance Isles. The woman struggled to understand the surname, having difficulty hearing Jane's voice as her hearing aids could not distinguish between all the voices in the bar, resulting in her hearing a discordant hum.

The man had no such difficulty so he wrote the names down in his notepad. In order to help the woman, Jane offered to write the names down in the raffle ticket stub, so she did. The man noticed two things at once. The scars on both of Jane's hands and that she was writing with her left hand. Both extremely important things that the master needed to be informed of, and all the more reason they needed to deal with Jane Rizzoli as soon as possible, as it was confirmation that this woman was indeed the one they were looking for. The elderly woman asked Jane something. "Rizzoli? Are you related to Angela Rizzoli?" Jane smiled at the woman and nodded. "Yes, she's my mother."

Jane recalled her from her childhood and smiled brightly. "Oh, please tell your mother that Dora Cafolla was asking for her. Come here, why do I not see you at Masses anymore?" At this, Jane shifted on her feet, and tried to explain that she had work commitments that made it impossible for her to attend Masses. The elderly man listening scowled at this latest revelation about Jane. He noted this in his notebook. After a brief chat Jane made her excuses, in order to return to Maura and Constance.

As Jane left, holding the drinks with her fingers, trying to avoid the cold coming into contact with her palms, Dora Cafolla tried to approach the elderly man to see if he would buy tickets, he curtly shrugged her off and continued scribbling into his notepad. Dora tsked at his rudeness, then went over to Giovanni and his pals, who were eager to make her happy by buying extra raffle tickets. As Dora left to approach other patrons, Giovanni was talking to his friends about Jane and Maura. "What's the big deal with them? They lady lovers or something? Not Roly Poly Rizzoli? Thought she was engaged to Casey Jones?"

Giovanni was all too happy to explain the full story, and the elderly man at the bar was busy writing all the things he heard. When the bartender tried to engage in small talk with him, he angrily continued writing, shaking his head, tapping his drink, for another refill.

Meanwhile, Constance and Maura were drinking their beverages with Jane, chatting away, when Maura noticed Jane trying to massage her right palm. She asked Jane if her palms were ok, receiving a wan smile in return. "Jane, tell me the truth. Your hand really needed a massage this afternoon, and here you are, handling cold beers. Did he not give you a tray?" Jane grimaced and admitted sheepishly she did not think of this, scratching her eyebrow. She then admitted that her right hand was starting to hurt again, but that the massage could wait until they went home that evening.

Constance noticed that their drinks were nearly finished, so suggested that they drink up and go home to Maura's. She noticed Mr Gilberti and his friends looking their way over at them in a way which made her uncomfortable. Another reason Constance suggested they go home was Jane's obvious need for a hand massage, and did not see any reason for them to stay.

So without any further ado, the three women left the Dirty Robber, leaving behind an extra tip for the bartender. The elderly man felt no need to trail Jane as it was getting late and he had over twenty pages of notes on her. So he finished his coke and left to go back to join his companion, to prepare the work for the Master.


	5. chapter five

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, but belong to Tess Gerritsen and TNT.

A/N This chapter is not beta read yet, but uploading this as it is Wednesday, and upload day for this story. Ok, here we go. Thanks.

Chapter FIVE

The Holy Joe Killer

The coffee maker whirred in the background as Constance hung her coat in the cloakroom, while Maura reclined on the couch. In the meantime Jane was crouching down offering Bass a British strawberry. The tortoise nibbled at it, then chomped the rest of it. He moved his head to look up at Jane searching for more. The detective grinned before offering the tortoise his second helping. Satisfied, the tortoise crawled away to his favorite place underneath the table, and retreated into his shell.

Constance was the first to break the silence.

"How are your hands now?"

"They are much better, thanks to Maura's massage this morning. Though I could do with another massage. Y'see, someone squeezed my hand so hard he crushed it."

At this she glanced at Maura, who merely beckoned for her to give her her hand so she could get on with the massage. Constance, after making sure the other women did not want any coffee, went over to the coffee machine and helped herself to a double black coffee, before returning to the couch.

While Maura was massaging her friend's hand, Constance remarked on how some people can be so inconsiderate, but Jane explained that the man who did it to her was an elderly priest who was very good to her growing up, and someone who did not know his own strength. They were so eager when they met again after so long. The poor priest was so upset after he realized what he had done. Constance merely nodded at this, unconvinced.

After Maura finished massaging Jane's hands, and the detective flexed her fingers a few times, she thanked Maura, saying her hands felt much better. Constance put a dollop of cream into her black coffee. After the cream and the coffee blended somewhat, she sipped a bit of it before starting.

"Now that we are here, I would appreciate it if you could explain to me what happened at the Dirty Robber, and why you saw fit to act like love struck teenagers around Giovanni Gilberti?"

She smiled with a raised eyebrow when she saw both women blush furiously at this. Jane retorted, looking at Maura,

"There would have been no need for this had you listened to me and had nothing to do with him! Giovanni of all people!"

Maura batted at Jane's arm with a wry laugh, before explaining things to her mother.

"When I first met him Jane warned me about him, but I didn't listen. As a result we had to pretend to be lovers to get rid of him."

Constance looked at her somewhat disappointingly.

"That is a very childish thing to do, you are both women in your thirties, surely he would have moved on by now, you told me you were at this for a couple of years by now. It does not become either of you to act like this."

Jane was silent as she felt it was Maura's place to address the issue. She bit back a sarcastic retort about mothers commenting on their adult children's personal lives, sensing it was something different this time.

After a while, as Maura found it most strange to talk about such things with her mother, especially as she's in her thirties, Maura responded to Constance's valid point.

"If it were any other man, yes, we would have stopped this a long time ago, but when it comes to Giovanni, he seems not to accept that I will never be interested in him. I made a huge mistake in not listening to Jane when she advised me not to go on a date with him. Well, here we are. It's become a bit of a running joke between Jane and I whenever we come across Giovanni, which is not that often. Please be assured I would do not do anything to sully the Isles family reputation."

Maura looked resolutely at Constance, who merely nodded at this. Thinking to herself, Constance knew that Maura was holding certain things back but conceded that she was entitled to her privacy, what woman would want her mother knowing certain things about her?

Aware of the mood shift in the room, Jane stood up and apologized, hoping Maura would not see through the lie:

"I'm sorry, I really have to go to the station to finish off some paperwork. However, thanks a million for helping with my hands. See you tomorrow here."

Not fooled, but appreciating Jane's discretion, Maura stood up and walked the detective to the door, and lightly placed her hand on Jane's arm.

"Yes, see you tomorrow. I enjoy the Rizzoli dinners. They are so full of life."

Jane smiled and looked over at the glamorous lady sitting on the couch, and thought of something.

"Y'know, Constance would be more than welcome to join us tomorrow, if she is free? Want to ask her while she's here?"

Maura turned to her mother and smiled.

"Jane has thoughtfully invited you to join us at the Rizzoli family dinner tomorrow, if you are free."

Constance walked over to the other women and smiled regretfully,

"Unfortunately I am booked for a business luncheon with a client in New York tomorrow, but if the invitation still stands, I would love to join you at the Rizzoli family dinner at some point in the future. Maura has told me so much about them, how enjoyable they are."

Disappointed, Jane nodded and smiled,

"Constance, you are always welcome, there will be enough food on the table, and my mother is a fantastic cook, if you remember, and you will get the finest of Italian cuisine from her. Next time."

With a final smile, Jane walked back to her car and got in. Constance and Maura both watched Jane drive off in her car, before returning to the couch inside.

"Want more coffee, Mother?"

Constance picked up the nervousness in Maura's voice but thought better than to draw attention to it. So she settled on answering the direct question for the moment.

"Yes please, my usual."

She watched as her daughter served her coffee just as she liked it, and reached into the press and took out some plain biscuits that looked like Constance's favorite type. At this, she smiled at Maura's thoughtfulness.

Back on the couch, sitting at opposite ends, both mother and daughter sipped their coffee silently and peacefully, Constance nibbling her biscuits absentmindedly.

After a while, the older woman turned to Maura and commented sadly:

"Even as a child you never knew how to ask for what you wanted. As a result you suffered neglect, and that is something I will always regret. I hope you can forgive me."

Maura looked at her with surprise.

"Mother, while that is true, you are still my mother, and I will never forget the evening you threw me out of the way and put yourself in the path of a moving car. That in itself shows how much of a mother you really are."

Constance reached for Maura's hand and holding on to it, continued:

"Maura, you are my daughter, and always were, from the moment I met you as a newborn. No, I may not have been much of a mother, but that is my failing. It is thanks to Jane who helped me see what I was doing to you, hurting your feelings with my thoughtlessness. I will always appreciate Jane for doing this. I think we got closer as mother and daughter as a result."

Maura gently squeezed her mother's hand.

"I may have met Hope and gotten to know her, but you are my mother. You raised me, and gave me your name. She merely gave birth to me and did not really care much about me after I donated the kidney."

Constance frowned.

"I did not like that at all when you first told me about it. You are not a thing to be used and disposed of when no longer needed."

Smiling softy, Maura murmured her response:

"Thanks, Mother."

Constance sat up a bit straighter and in a gentle but firm tone advised Maura:

"And on that note, I would like to help you a bit, but I do not want to intrude on your privacy. I would like to talk in the role of your mother and friend. I mean, I was not there for you when you needed someone to talk to, as a child. Now, as an adult... Let me say one thing, and you can think about it."

Nervously, Maura swallowed before replying:

"Very well, I am ready to hear what you have to say, Mother."

Constance looked at her and smiled. "You are an adult but you still have the same inability to ask for what you want. What I saw tonight was no act, at least on your part. I don't know Jane as much as you, but a mother's instinct has me urging you to tell Jane how you feel about her. "

Maura was beetroot red with embarrassment but remained silent. Constance continued, as she felt what he had to say was very important.

"Yes, she is not from the same social background as we Isles are. However, she is very good for you.

I won't lie, when you ended things with Garret Fairfield, I was very disappointed as it would have been a good match socially, but on a personal level, he would have held you back, and his criminal activities would have been most unsuitable.

Ian used you as he saw fit. I never approved of him for that reason. How many times has he left you without warning? You deserve better.

Jane? I would never stand in your way if she is what you want. You have to learn how to ask her. I am not a mind reader but her directness is refreshing. You could do with more of that."

Constance searched Maura's eyes but only saw troubled embarrassment there.

"I've said my piece. I can only hope I've helped, and not intruded a bit too much into your privacy."

Maura nodded, silently, looking around for something. Constance knew what she was looking for.

"Bass is under the table. You always liked to talk to him whenever you had a problem. Please know if you need a human to talk with, you have myself and Jane.

On this note, I have to return to the hotel as I have a business luncheon to prepare for. Always know I care for and love you, dear Maura."

Maura hugged her mother briefly and returned the sentiment.

"Thank you for your advice. I will certainly consider what you have to say. Good night, Mother."

Maura watched as her mother left in the cab. Closing the door, she turned around in order to go to Bass to talk to him, only to see the tortoise slowly amble his way into the yoga room. As usual, Watson followed Bass and was with him. Maura smiled to herself, knowing how illogical it was to anthropomorphise Bass like this, but she still found it soothing to talk to him.

She suddenly recalled that it was time for the tortoises to have their monthly cleaning session, and decided to clean them in the morning. "Bass always liked his carapace and plastron being tended to. Watson is slowly coming around to it." Maura thought to herself. Pulling out her mobile phone, she pressed a few keys.

"Jane, want to come over early tomorrow and look after the tortoises with me, it's high time for their monthly session. You said you wanted to get closer to Watson? Bring a change of clothing, remember, you will get wet. Tomorrow around 10am?"

It took a few minutes, but Maura got a reply.

"Yes, would love that! Thought you'd forgotten. I enjoy working on the turtles with you. 10am? Must it be that late? How about 6am? Nah. Ok, I'll be there at ten on the dot."

Maura chucked at that, but loved their banter notwithstanding. She retorted:

"Tortoises."

Always wanting to have the last word, Jane responded:

"Turtles. :p"

With a sad smile, Maura walked over to Bass. She sat on one of the cushions in the Yoga room, her back resting against the wall, Bass on her right. Watson was inside his shell by the large ball. Softly stroking Bass's shell, she merely said one thing to him.

"How do I tell her?"

The tortoise responded to the soft stroking and stretched out his neck and legs in pleasure. He then looked up at Maura and bumped closer to her. They sat there in silence, enjoying each other's company.


	6. chapter six

Disclaimer: I am only borrowing these characters, and am not profiting from them. They belong to Tess Gerritsen and TNT.

In this story, there is no pregnancy, and no miscarriage as per canon.

Many thanks to Manuela Piera Coppola for the help with the Italian phrases. 

 

Chapter Six:   
The Holy Joe Killer.

Jane was over at ten on the dot, wearing old clothes, and hair haphazardly tied back into a ponytail. She looked like she exactly was, just out of bed. She murmured to Maura as she passed her,  
“Not a word. Coffee first.”

Maura closed the door as Jane trudged over to the island, sitting down on one of the stools, hunched over, elbows resting on the counter top. The doctor silently walked over to the coffee maker, and prepared a mug of coffee for Jane, as she liked it, and handed the mug over to her. The detective drank the coffee in silence, while Maura encouraged the tortoises over to the patio where they were to be cleaned. By the time Jane was finished her coffee, she was feeling a bit more herself. 

She walked over to the patio, greeting the tortoises. Bass withdrew into his shell when Jane came towards him. Watson snapped at Jane though. Grousing, Jane complained to Maura,  
“I really don't know why I bother. Watson doesn't even like me.”

Maura smiled at Jane, reminding her of a simple, salient fact;  
“Watson is a temperamental tortoise and needs time to warm up to people, even to people he knows. Simply watch as I try to interact with him. He's a reptile, and not a mammal. Don't expect instant warmth and affection from him.”

Maura offered him a cactus leaf, but the tortoise simply walked away and hid in his shell. Jane rolled her eyes, and rubbed Watson's shell with her finger. With a soft voice, she coaxed him;  
“Hey little man, come on out of yer shell, we ain't predators or anything like that. It's just me, Jane and Maura over there with Bass.”

After a few minutes of soft-spoken words in Jane's voice, combined with the stroking of his shell, Watson slowly poked his head out of the shell, and accepted the cactus leaf from Jane. Jane looked over at Maura, and mouthed: you're a good teacher, thanks. Maura nodded and smiled. Slowly, she approached Watson and sat down beside Jane. The cranky tortoise stopped eating his leaf and watched Maura balefully, before continuing with his leaf. Maura smiled and stood up, Jane following, knowing what was about to happen. They both moved their tortoises out of the central patio.

Taking out a remote control, Maura turned a key and pressed a button, and the patio suddenly moved into the ground, and crystalline water started filling the recess until a small pool was present where none was before. 

“I love your hidden water pool. Perfect for so many reasons. Ok, let's get on with the cleaning of the...”

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Jane finished the sentence with...

“...reptiles!”

Maura merely sighed and sat in dignified silence, as she looked at her friend. They both suddenly burst out laughing, Maura splashing Jane with the water. The sudden noise upset the tortoises and they both promptly retreated into their shells. After about twenty minutes of calm silence and stroking of the shells, and both women talking to their respective pets, the animals were now pacified and were ready to enter the pool, with a bit of help. 

When both reptiles were in the pool, and the tepid water just high enough to cover the plastrons and a few centimeters of the carapaces, Jane and Maura now had about twenty minutes before replacing the water. So they went over to the guesthouse, to talk to Angela about preparing the food for the family dinner later on. 

As soon as they approached the door, Angela opened the door and gave both Jane and Maura an exuberant good morning hug, Jane grimacing and Maura initially taken aback, but they returned the greetings. 

The Rizzoli matriarch looked at the two before her and asked if they would like to help with the gnocchi and the rest of the food after they were finished with the tortoises. Maura nodded while Jane merely grunted. 

“Angela, I enjoy helping with the cooking, I enjoy cooking Italian cuisine. You are such a wonderful cook. Have you thought of running a restaurant, as well as the cafe?”

Angela beamed at Maura, shaking her head.   
“while I enjoy food and cooking, I only like to cook for family and friends. I think I do my bit for the public at the station cafe.” 

After a bit of banter, the women went their separate ways, Angela to her cooking and the two friends to the tortoises. While Angela was kept busy in the kitchen, Jane and Maura continued with their tender care. Pouring a bit of water over the shells, Jane and Maura took a toothbrush each, and gently cleaned the carapaces, taking care of the areas between the scutes, removing waxy build up, and flaking scales. The women took care not to be too rough, and the tortoises enjoyed this bonding time with their owners. Once the entire carapaces were cleaned and ready, Maura warned Jane to be careful with the legs, tail and neck, as they are more sensitive than the carapace. 

The tall and lanky detective raised her eyebrow before uttering one word...

“Really?”

Sitting forwards, arms akimbo, Jane continued,  
“Just how long have we been cleaning these animals?”

Maura laughed:  
“Long enough!”

Chucking, the two friends carried on cleaning their tortoises, until they were both satisfied the reptiles were clean and refreshed. 

Jane took the remote control, pressed DRAIN, draining the water from the pool. When this was done, she pressed UP, returning the pool to its patio state, and both women looked at the slow motion of the floor moving upwards. Jane handed the remote control over to Maura who put it in her pocket. Folding her arms, Jane smiled, remarking:

“It's very handy to have a hidden pool, hmm.”

Maura grinned and   
“That's why I had it installed here, rather than have a standard pool. It's much easier to clean the tortoises this way.”

“I'm not talking about animals here, I'm talking about people. It's handy to have a patio when you want, and a pool for other occasions.”

After bantering back and forth, the friends walked in and after washing their hands, proceeded to help Angela with the cooking. 

__________ 

After dinner, Angela walked over to the group with something in her hands, when Jane glanced over and immediately frowned. 

“Oh Ma, not the family photographs?! I swear, it seems to me you are making it your life's purpose to embarrass me as much as possible!”

“Shush, Jane, I want to show Maura them as she never saw these ones before! You'd swear you were ashamed of your family or something!”

Jane, on the couch, merely rolled her eyes at her mother but said nothing, opting to sit back and watch the baseball game on the TV with Frankie and Tommy, who both sniggered at her reaction, knowing exactly what Angela was going to say. Sure enough, she opened the very old album and pointed to something for Maura to look at. Maura reached for the album politely, when Angela said the one thing she always said to people who would listen to her about this.

“Now, Maura, have a look at this photograph and tell me what you think.”

The photograph showed a very tall and lanky woman in a wedding dress standing beside a seated man who was wearing a US soldier uniform, presumably her husband. The writing underneath the photo said “Gianluca & Dora Vicini 25.7.1944.” Anyone else would have noted the remarkable likeness between Jane and her Nonna, in the wedding photograph, but there were some differences between the two women, which Maura was about to point out, but Angela would not let her get a word in, so she listened while the older woman eagerly asked her her opinion on the photograph. 

“It looks as if Jane is the one getting married there, and not her Nonna, don't you agree? That's my parents on their wedding day. This tells us a lot what Jane would look like getting married.”

Maura smiled politely, but could not think of what to say, as she was looking at the photograph in question, thinking to herself about Jane being married, which very nearly happened, before she returned the engagement ring to Casey a month previously. Noting Maura's silence, Angela was quiet for a minute, biting her lip, as she realized what she was saying. Glancing over at Jane, who luckily was engrossed in the baseball game, Angela leaned over to Maura and confided in her;

“Poor Jane, I don't know what happened between the two of them, but to be honest with you, she can do so much better than him. However it is very hard for me to see her being single at her age. You'd think she'd have met someone to love by now, she's a lovely person underneath all that sarcasm and prickly exterior.”

Maura picked at an imaginary crease on her dress before replying:  
“That's very true, you really have to get to know her, however, she's very much her own person. You can't just have her with anyone, it has to be someone who complements her personality and understands her loyalty to her job and would not expect her to be a suburban housewife. That is so not Jane.”

Both women looked over at the three Rizzolis when they roared as the game ended, the Red Sox winning.

“I only want to see her happy, you know. What mother doesn't want that for her children? Besides, I want her to have children of her own before it is too late. Yes, I have a grandson, TJ, whom I love dearly, of course. However, having said that, it is a very happy day indeed when your daughter has a child, you know.”

Maura could only gape at her, before nodding. Returning to the photo album, Angela turned the pages, explaining about the various people in the photographs, before Maura asked about the first photo she saw, that of the wedding couple. Angela beamed and asked her if she would like to know more about the Vicinis. Eager to learn more about the Rizzolis, the younger woman smiled and said she would love to. Before Angela could begin, Jane and the men joined them at the dinner table as the game was over on the TV. 

Angela turned to her daughter and asked innocently,   
“Jane, you were saying you were having the weekend off? Is that correct?”

Suspiciously, Jane looked at her and replied slowly,  
“Yes, that's right, why? Cavanaugh told me to take the weekend off and would not entertain the thought of me working for the next few days. As it is, I'm on call until tomorrow night, when I get off duty.”

“Oh good, I was double checking. I arranged for you to go on a date with Guiseppe DiNozzo, I met his mother the other day at the shop.”

Jane was extremely irritated at this and glared at Angela.  
“Oh, MA, I'm definitely not interested, would you ever stop trying to match me with anyone you think would be of interest to me! What you think would be a suitable match is quite the opposite to what I want!”

Angela grabbed at the opportunity here and teasingly asked:

“Then what DO you want in a person?”

Jane snapped back, glaring at her mother:  
“I just want to be left alone and not be bothered by would-be matchmakers, especially ones called Angela Rizzoli! Would you ever stop this and just leave me alone!”

Angela raised her hands in the air in despair.   
“Harrumph! I'm only doing my best for you. I want to see you happy! You're nearly forty, you know!”

“I would be very happy if you left me alone and started talking about something else!”

Angela sighed in defeat and shook her head.   
“You're a very stubborn and grumpy Rizzoli, that's for sure. You got that from your father. That much is evident! Anyway, Maura here wanted to know more about my parents, so would you like to start, Jane?”

Maura looked from mother to daughter and waited with a smile on her face. Her patience was rewarded when Jane slowly started speaking. 

“Nonno and Nonna were both from Italy. However the circumstances of their marriage was a mite unusual, to say the least. You see, Nonno moved to America when he was ten, with his parents. When he grew up, he joined the US Army, and as a result found himself being posted to Italy during World War II. 

He met Nonna there and they fell in love almost immediately. However, not having met him, her parents did not approve as they wanted him to marry a nice Italian man, not some foreigner whose background they knew nothing about. Things changed immediately once they heard his name. What could be more Italian than Guiseppe Vicini? When they discovered that he had family in the village next to theirs, and met with them, both families discussed and finally approved of the marriage, so they married in Italy. With her family's blessings, Nonna left for the US with her husband. So that's it, really.”

Frankie snorted and nudged Jane.   
“Is that all you're going to tell Maura about them?”

Angela butted in and berated Jane, gesticulating with her hands,   
“you're impossible, you know!”

Jane rolled her eyes and reminded them that it was only the start of the chat, not the end. They acquiesced at this and became quiet.

Maura smiled at this:  
“Perhaps we can have a discussion about your Nonna and the three of you? How did you get on with her? How did she find America?”

Tommy spoke for the first time.   
“I was too young to remember her clearly. I was only 4 when she died. What I do remember is she was a very warm woman who gave me lots of hugs.”

The Rizzoli matriarch retorted, looking at Jane, smiling while doing so.  
“Jane, you also have that trait, but won't show that to anyone! You're very prickly and sarcastic, you know!” Her daughter merely rolled her eyes at her, saying, “ya think?”

Maura laughed at this, before turning to Frankie and asking him if he remembered anything about Nonna. Frankie explained that Nonna spoke only Italian at home, but outside the house, she was able to chat in English, she was a remarkably intelligent woman who picked things up easily, but because she moved to America in her twenties, she had a late start, but that wasn't a problem. People were usually forgiving whenever she made mistakes in English. 

Angela and the others were listening to the familiar story, as it was common knowledge in the family, but they enjoyed sharing this with Maura, whom they considered as family anyway. Maura, for her part, really appreciated learning more about the maternal grandparents of the Rizzolis, as she did not have similar stories to share about her own grandparents, either biological or adoptive. 

While Frankie was talking, Angela offered people desserts to choose from, cannolis, frappas and ice-cream. Jane took a cannoli, while Tommy grabbed the last of the frappas. Maura, mindful of her figure and health, politely declined. When Angela insisted, Maura took a cannoli and thanked her. 

Frankie smiled when he told Maura that Nonna used to read from his books to him, helping him to learn to read. It was only much later on he realized that she was bonding with him and at the same time, trying to read in English, as it was a challenge to her, English words often not appearing in print as they sounded. This was so different to Italian, where every word looked exactly as they sounded. So in reality they were helping each other to read in English. 

Angela interrupted and smiled:  
“You children weren't the first. She started this by teaching your uncle Carmine, then all the rest of her children, myself included. She was a voracious reader, and there were books everywhere in her house, in both Italian and English.”

Turning to Maura, she added:   
“Maura, I'm one of the middle children in the family. By the time she got to me, she was able to read English quite comfortably. The Boston Italian community was very helpful in this regard, so she picked things up easily, apart from the odd mistake. She firmly believed if you got someone to explain to you, then that person was able to understand it. Frankie, do you remember her asking you to explain things to her?”

Frankie nodded, while Jane smiled indulgently. Angela continued.   
“That was her way of making sure you understood what you were reading.” 

Jane interjected:   
“In other words, the best way to learn is to teach. She was very good at it, she got us all to read this way, even though we had school.”

Frankie mused about it before speaking up:  
“I suppose I was not thinking about it from an adult's perspective.”

Jane shoved him and rolled her eyes.  
“You were only a small child with the memories of a small child! Took you long enough to catch on!”

Frankie and Tommy chuckled at this, reminiscing fondly. 

Soberly, Frankie mused about Nonna's passing.   
“I was pretty sad when Nonna died. I was six years old. However, Jane here was inconsolable, they had a special bond, Nonna and her. Maybe you can tell Maura more about her?”

Jane quietly nodded, beckoning for the album, as she wanted to show Maura a specific photograph. When Maura looked at it, she looked up at Jane, remarking on how the bond between them was evident, especially as they looked so similar. In the photograph, the seven year old Jane was standing beside her seated Nonna, looking at the older woman, who was also looking at her. Their physical similarity, which was already remarked on earlier, made it look as if it was the past and the future selves looking at each other. 

“You see this photograph? We had a special bond, as Frankie pointed out. I was her first grandchild, and we used to spend hours together. She would talk to me in Italian, and back then, I was able to chat away with her in the same language.”

Angela interjected:  
“It's a shame, Jane doesn't really have the same fluency now, she's too American now. She may have the Italian culture in her, passed on from mother to daughter through the generations, but because she grew up and was educated in Boston, she is also an American. When people say she is Italian, they mean the culture, but really, she's not Italian in the way Italians from Italy are....”

Impatiently, Jane interrupted:  
“You're rambling. Let me tell Maura about Nonna.”

Glaring at Angela, Jane continued as if she wasn't interrupted.  
“Well, Nonna was Italian, so we used to spend a lot of time together chatting and she fed me a lot of gnocchi, cannolis and frappas, spoiling me. I'm sure you want to know about how Nonno and Nonna got on.”

Maura nodded at Jane and beckoned for her to continue, with her hand. 

“They were a very romantic couple and every morning without fail, as Nonno left for work, he used to give Nonna a kiss, saying to her 'Sei sempre nel mio cuore!”

Maura smiled at this,   
“How romantic! To say to your wife “You are always in my heart” as a morning tradition! I'm sure they argued like any other married couple?”

Angela laughed at this:  
“Of course they did, but they always made up. They never believed in keeping strong feelings inside, better out than in. This made their relationship stronger as they never kept quiet about what was troubling them. They were quite demonstrative. Jane used to be like them, and look at her now!”

Jane scowled and warned her mother not to go too far in annoying her. Angela raised her hands in surrender, but told her not to snap at her, she was her mother after all. Jane rolled her eyes at this, but smiled and gave a brief nod, which mollified Angela. 

Jane looked at Maura before continuing:  
“It was a very sad day indeed when Nonno died of a heart attack, I was 8 years old, and after the death, Nonna always wore black, and insisted I be with her. I loved her company but it was sad to see Nonna so heartbroken. We used to visit Nonno's grave every Sunday, before the family meal. She used to say the one phrase each time, weeping. I can remember it very well. “Mi manchi come l’aria che respiro” I miss you like the air I breathe.” She only lived for one year more before she died herself. We always said she died of a broken heart.”

Maura was deeply touched by what she heard. “What a story!” 

Suddenly Jane's phone rang. She answered it, listening to Dispatch, then told the others she had to go as they had a suspect in custody who needed to be interrogated.

“Bye Jane!” “Bye!” “See you later.”

After Jane left, Angela took the album into her hands, turning the pages until she found the photograph she was looking for. She showed it to Maura, who saw that it was a photograph of Angela's parents in middle age, smiling at each other.

“That was taken on my wedding day. Jane did not tell you the full story, maybe she is embarrassed. However I feel it is very important, really important. You know I want Jane to be happy in her life. She is such a grump sometimes.”

Everyone present laughed at the truth of that. Angela continued:  
“My parents had another phrase and they always said it to each other, and I will never forget the laughs at the dinner table when Janie, she was only nine then, loudly declared that she wanted someone to have, just like her Nonno and Nonna had each other.”

Intrigued, Maura wanted to know more.   
“What's the phrase?”

Angela merely stated:  
“Io ti appartengo e tu mi appartieni”

Maura was deeply touched by this and remarked on what a romantic thing it was to say. She also stated that she wasn't surprised Jane did not want to talk about that, as she was so private about her feelings. She had other thoughts about people belonging to others like objects but refrained from saying so. 

Angela gently smiled and added;  
“Well, Janie loved the idea of belonging to one special person and that same person belonging to her, so she could say the same thing as her Nonna and Nonno said to each other. Poor girl, she was mortified when we all teased her about it. However when the teasing got too much she stopped talking about it totally. She was always such a sensitive child. The teasing continued but not for long. However, from this, and other experiences, she learned that the best way to handle embarrassing moments is to keep her feelings to herself.”

Laughing softly, Angela nodded,   
“People tell me I'm interfering but I don't think I am, I'm helping! That is the only way I know how to make sure everyone is happy. I cannot help if people don't tell me what they are thinking. Jane is so closed mouthed sometimes!”

Frankie took a frappa and after biting into it, remarked that Jane may not appear to be sensitive, but that sensitive girl is still there, she just built a shell.   
“Hmm, Maura, you could say that Jane is the human version of a turtle or a tortoise, whatever is applicable, when it comes to feelings.”

Maura chuckled at this, but said nothing. 

They noticed a movement and looked around. Bass came ambling up towards the table, on the lookout for some leafy greens or strawberries. Tommy lifted a lettuce leaf, and looked at Maura questioningly. She shook her head, pointing to a box of cactus leaves and a punnet of British strawberries. 

“Iceberg lettuce is not nutritious enough for Bass, even though he seems to like it. He would be much better off eating one of these.”

Tommy reached over and pulled the box of cactus leaves and offered one to Bass, who peered at him suspiciously, before retreating into his shell. However, Watson, the other tortoise who by this time left the sanctuary of the guest bedroom, crawled over to take the cactus leaf. Holding it in his mouth, he crawled back towards the quietness of the guest bedroom. Maura and Tommy smiled as they watched the two tortoises in action. Maura turned to Tommy and explained to him, 

“You were too fast for Bass. You need to take your time with him. Just leave the leaf by his shell, near his head, and leave him be. He'll eat it.” 

So Tommy selected another cactus leaf and left it by Bass. The people at the table chatted away, while Bass slowly emerged from his shell and munched at his cactus leaf. About fifteen minutes later, the tortoise butted his head against Tommy's ankle for more leaves which he promptly got. Tommy and Frankie moved over to the couch as they watched the reruns of the baseball game they saw earlier, as the women tidied up and cleared the table.

Angela suddenly grabbed Maura in a huge bear hug and thanked her for all her help in preparing the food and ensuring it was yet another successful family day. Maura extricated herself from the hug as politely as possible, and assured Angela she enjoyed helping her out with the preparations and learning more about cooking in the Italian way. 

“Aw stop that, you're family, Maura! Don't forget it.”

Maura smiled, touched.


	7. Chapter 7

The usual disclaimers apply.   
Borrowing the characters from Tess Gerritsen and TNT for fun. 

Chapter Seven  
The Holy Joe Killer

Sighing, Jane met Korsak at the bullpen before going in to interrogate the suspect. Handing Korsak his coffee, Jane paused by and asked him what was going on. Frowning, he shook his head and shrugged, raising his hands. 

Korsak told Jane that there was this man who turned himself in at that station, claiming responsibility for the Holy Joe killings just an hour previously, and was now waiting to be interviewed by the detectives working the case. He sighed heavily and sat back, fists on the desk. 

Jane groaned when she heard this, walked over and sat on her desk, arms crossed.   
"Yet another time waster, ya reckon? There's nothing like an unsolved series of murders that's all over the papers to draw in the crazies, especially cases with a religious element."

Korsak scratched the little hairs at the back of his neck before looking at her shrewdly over the frames of his glasses, and tilting his head slightly before sighing once again.  
"These guys... However, we have a very easy screening process, thank goodness!" 

Jane scratched her nose and frowned at Korsak, scowling with impatience;  
"Yeah, let's go and see what this guy has to say for himself."

They left their desks and nodded to the others in the station in greeting, on the way to the interrogation room. In the little side room where they could see the man waiting through the one-way mirror, Korsak agreed that he would watch while Jane questioned the man. 

Inside the interrogation room sat the nondescript middle-aged man in old and worn but clean clothing. Jane noted the sheen of sweat on the man's forehead and the general air of nervousness that surrounded him. So she sat opposite him, facing him, with Korsak standing on the other side of the one-way mirror, listening to the interview. 

As Jane sat down, the man became more and more antsy in his movements as he stared at her. Glancing at him, then at her watch, Jane began the recording, then asked.  
"So you say you are the one responsible for the Holy Joe killings?"

Agitatedly, the man stood up and shouted at her, "Is there a man I can talk to, what I have to say is not suitable for women to hear, and you are not the right person for me, God told me to talk to the man in charge of the investigations into my murders, I am here to confess to a man!"

Jane looked at him calmly and asked him to sit down. He complied but with a scowl. Jane looked at him again, before telling him she would get the man in charge. He thanked her then sat back, arms folded. 

Jane looked at him once again, before raising her finger.  
"One moment please, while I get him."

In the side room, Korsak turned to Jane before she could say anything, and told her he would end things quickly by asking the screening question first. The two detectives gazed at the man inside the interrogation room for a while, then Jane turned to Korsak, musingly.  
"Good. I'll stay out here and watch. He seems to me not to be the genuine killer."

Korsak wondered why Jane was saying that, but trusted her gut feeling.  
She handed him the folder so he could proceed with the questioning. 

Inside, the man exhaled with relief when he saw Korsak enter the room. Before the detective could say anything, the man started. 

"Thank you! I am ready to confess to my crimes! It was dreadful what I had to do but I had to do it."

Korsak sat down facing the man.   
"Very well, you can start by telling me your name."

The man shifted in his seat and began his confession.   
"Bogdan Ionescu."

Korsak wrote it down, checking the spelling with the man, and noted that this man was still nervous, and not quite looking at him in the eyes, preferring to look around the room as if searching for cameras. The man looked at the camera in the corner of the room. 

“Is that a camera?”

Korsak pacified him saying it was, yes, and used for recording purposes. 

Korsak leaned forward, and asked neutrally,   
"Thank you, Mr Ionescu. Could you tell me what you did and why you had to do it?"

The man sat up and started praying in a foreign language with his eyes closed. He then blessed himself in the Orthodox way. When Korsak saw this, he knew immediately Jane was right and this man wasn't the Holy Joe Killer, but waited for his response nonetheless. 

It was only after that that the man started to answer Korsak's question. 

On the other side of the mirror, Jane listened with interest but her cop instinct intensified, that told her there was something wrong, but she remained silent and let Korsak get on with the interview.

"God told me to go after elderly men who needed to be sacrificed for the sins of the world. The only way to let God know I did the work was to display the sacrificial victims just as Jesus on the cross." 

With that, the man nodded as if he was finished. Korsak glanced at the mirror before continuing. Calmly, he spoke gently to the man.   
"Yes, I see. God told you. So you had no option but to follow his instructions."

The man smiled and tried to grasp Korsak's hands, but Korsak moved his hands away just in time, reaching for the files in the folder.   
"You understand, I am so happy that someone understands. People always laughed at me. Well, God told me people had to pay for their sins." 

In a very gentle voice, Korsak asked the man the screening question, deliberately omitting certain details.   
"Mr Ionescu, what made you choose that bible verse?"

The man looked up agitatedly and gasped out:  
"Hmm, what bible verse?"

When he saw Korsak's head slump slightly, he suddenly changed his tone.

"Oh you were testing me? Very good. I did not choose any bible phrase, God told me that the bodies would speak for themselves."

Korsak looked at the mirror and back again at the man. Deciding not to carry on with this charade, he decided to be direct, and spoke sternly, beckoning for the two cops in the room to be ready to lead the man out.   
"I could have you arrested for wasting police time but no, you are free to go."

Suddenly the nervous demeanour of the man disappeared, to be replaced by rage. He suddenly lunged at Korsak, and it took the two cops to rush forward to pull the man off him he was so enraged. Shaken, Korsak had no option but to say the two words...

"Book him."

Jane rushed into the room to see if she could help Korsak, as the man was hauled away. 

\---

Later on in the bullpen, Korsak and Jane sighed at each other from their respective desks. Jane was the first to speak.

"That's the fourth false confession now. We still have a lot of work to do to find the real killers. Let's look at the display to see what we have so far. They are so devious they are dangerous."

Korsak chucked darkly at Jane's words.   
"Killers are always dangerous. Can you think of any suspicious people you've come across lately? Some killers do like to inject themselves in the case in some way."

Jane grunted at this but told Korsak of the man she noticed in the Dirty Robber the other night.   
"There was something suspicious about him as I noticed he kept on writing in shorthand and shooting glowering glances at people. There was just... Something about him, I'm not sure what."

Korsak replied, adopting a mock-professorial tone:  
"However, he did nothing that we could hold him for. It is not a crime to act suspiciously, if there are no grounds to believe the law is being broken."

Jane snorted and quipped with a friendly eye roll,  
"Thank you for teaching me detection 101. Anyway, he caught my interest, since you asked."

The two detectives briefly discussed the man Jane was talking about, but seeing that he didn't indeed break any laws, they decided not to focus on him too much, preferring to talk about their plans for the weekend. 

After they did the paperwork, Korsak ordered Jane to go home. With a tired smile, she pushed herself off her desk. 

"I'm now off duty, so see you on Monday. Dispatch better not contact me before then, or there will be consequences!"

Korsak chuckled at Jane.   
"Have a great weekend! See you Monday."

Happy, Jane pulled out her phone and texted Maura.

Now leaving the station. On my way home to pick up a change of clothes, look after Jo Friday, then I'll be over to you. Your turn to select a film. Please no documentaries on diseases or anything like that! :p

The text in reply was fast in coming.

See you soon, don't be too long. As for your request, just for that, I will pick something on diseases. Perhaps an hour long documentary on the diseases affecting drosophilia, the fruit fly, and I will devise a mini quiz for you. :)

Ha! Sounds wonderful! I can't wait! :p 30 minutes at the latest. 

Putting her phone back in her pocket, Jane chuckled to herself. After a short drive home, she gathered a few things and decided to go to the local shop to buy a few beers and a good bottle of wine for Maura, looking forward to her weekend with Maura, seeing that Angela and her meddling ways will not be there, being with friends for the weekend. On her way to the shop, she did not notice the black van following her. 

Inside the van, the driver told his companion to pull out the rifle and prepare for the capture.   
"It is now time to get her, we have all the information we need and she is now alone. It is doubtful whether anyone will miss her so late at night."

The black van slowed down and the passenger rolled down the window, took aim, and shot Jane. 

The woman felt a searing pain in her left buttock, and pulled out what appeared to be a tranquilliser dart, complete with the bright orange fabric at the other end. She tried to send a text asking for help but was overpowered by the man who shot her. 

It took a few minutes for the tranquilliser to take effect but while she was aware of her surroundings, she tried valiantly to fight off the attacker, but her phone was wrested from her grasp and kept open by the other man, the driver, who was taking note of the names and numbers in her contacts. He smiled at the lucky break in getting the phone before it locked itself, requiring a pass code to open it again.

Around ten minutes later, Jane was unconscious and had to be carried into the black van. The passenger became the driver, while the other man carried on taking note of the contacts in Jane's phone, while Jane was unceremoniously tossed onto the pile of blankets that was prepared for her, beside the ropes that were needed for the next stage of the purification process. 

He then read the text messages and saw that Maura was expecting Jane over soon. So he took note of the number, and put the phone back in his pocket, and began to tie Jane up with thick rope. 

After two hours, with no sign of Jane, Maura began to worry. So she decided to call Jane. The phone call went into voicemail which merely fueled the doctor's concerns. So she drove over to Jane's apartment to see if everything was ok. Jane's car was there. Using her key, she entered Jane's apartment only to be greeted by a very friendly Jo Friday. 

"Jane, are you there?"

Silence was her only answer, so Maura took Jo Friday with her back to her house, and rang the only person she thought of who would be in a position to help. 

"Korsak, is Jane still at the station with you? She told me she was coming, but she hasn't arrived yet? Is she still needed at the station? You see, if she was needed, if something came up, she would have told me, it's most unlike her not to let me know what is going on, especially if we agreed to spend the evening together watching a film.”

Korsak was puzzled when he heard this, and explained:  
“No, she left about two hours ago, she told me she was on her way to you?”

Maura's concern intensified.   
“No, Jane hasn't come over. I don't like assumptions, but the situation is very strange. She texted me two hours ago that she was on her way, 30 minutes at the latest. There's no sign of her in her apartment when I went over to check, her car is parked outside and Jo Friday needed to be brought outside. I brought her home with me."

Korsak did not like the sound of this at all so he told her he would go over to Beacon Hill, to talk to her. When he rang the door, Maura was very quick in answering the door, and was almost in tears she was so upset. Korsak knew the the station policy that required someone be missing for more than 24 hours before a missing person's report could be filed meant that officially, he couldn't do anything. However, as a friend and colleague he could start trying to see if he could help. He decided not to tell Maura his suspicions, as he thought it would only upset her further. 

So he rang Frost, Frankie and other cops who were on duty but would not object to helping find one of their own, especially when they suspected a kidnapping. He explained the situation and contacted Cavanaugh as well, just in case. 

Once the phone calls were made and people on the case, Korsak scratched the back of his head and asked Maura a question that was on his mind. 

“Surely Angela would need to know? She would never forgive us if she wasn't told and something happened to Jane. You know how much she loves her children.”

Maura looked up at Korsak and saw his point. She wringed her hands and swallowed, pacing back and forth, and it took Korsak's words to galvanise her into motion.   
“like it or not, we do have to let Angela know.”

Maura looked at him, as realisation hit her. She sat down on the couch, before taking a deep breath.  
“Unfortunately Angela is not in her house, but on a weekend trip with friends at the moment. We'll wait until we see her on Sunday evening, when she returns, and she'll be told. If only she didn't leave her phone behind!”

Korsak calmed her down with a reassuring pat, telling her he would check Angela's whereabouts with Frankie. Smiling at her, he reassured her that Boston's finest detectives will find Angela without a problem, and that they would inform her if needed. For now, Maura agreed to leave things with Korsak and the other detectives. After the man left, she decided to go to bed for the night. However, she could barely sleep with worry.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I am only borrowing the characters, and not making any profit from this. They belong to Tess Gerritsen and TNT.

TRIGGER WARNING: I apologize for not explaining this before, I was told I should have done this at the beginning. From this chapter onwards, it will be very raw, emotionally, and refers to graphic scenes of torture and responses to that. PTSD reactions as well, but in future chapters too.

Apologies for the delay in uploading, I did not think it appropriate to post this kind of chapter during the holiday season but it seems I am wrong. I did not find this easy to write, but it seems it HAD to be written. This is the result of many rewrites. (Better late and written properly than on time and badly.)

Thanks to cjunited38 for setting me on the right track when it comes to names. 

Chapter Eight   
The Holy Joe Killer

Jane woke up with a blinding headache, and matters were made worse with the beam of light aimed at her face and torso. The first thing she noticed as consciousness slowly came back was the searing pain on both shoulders and back of her neck. She couldn't move.  
The bound woman slowly realized that she was standing up, tied to a rectangular frame, arms and legs securely bound to the corresponding corner. She suddenly realized that she was naked and that there was someone else in the room. 

Mortified, she tried to cover her nudity from the other person, but she couldn't, as her arms and legs were tied exactly like the famous drawing of Leonardo Da Vinci, she couldn't remember the name, but anyway, she was so exposed she became furious, and lashed out. 

"Let me go!" She struggled valiantly against the ropes but to no avail. She suddenly heard a sneering voice from behind the bright light. 

"Hark at how the creature struggles." 

Jane gasped in anxiety and fear, but tried not to let it show on her face, preferring to appear unaffected by the current situation, but she couldn't help glowering at him in resentment.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli, you can struggle all you like, but you will not hide yourself from the Master, who sees all. It was He who dictated you were to be stripped and exposed, in order to atone for your sins. We see that you are trying to appear not to be afraid, but we know all. Your breathing gives you away."

The detective clenched her jaw when she heard this and resolutely decided not to let him? Them? Get at her. How did they know her name? Even her middle name? The man continued taunting her.

"We were watching you for a good while until the master dictated we were to go and get you. Hence our waiting until now. The time is right for you to repent and atone for your sins."

The throbbing headache made it difficult for Jane to concentrate but one thing was clear to her now... That she was either in the presence of the deluded Holy Joe serial killer, or a dangerous copycat. 

She was not sure if there were more than one person in the room with her, but hated being in such an exposed and compromising position, being strapped naked to a frame like that. She heard a shuffle then looked up to the side of the spotlight. 

A short figure wearing a monk's habit with the hood up, obscuring his face, emerged from behind the beam of light shining directly into her eyes. 

"It does you no good to try to hide your feelings. We know what you are feeling. However, we must know one thing. Do you feel remorse for your sinful actions?"

Jane inhaled sharply at his words and started sweating out of fear. She knew from her Police Academy days that if she gave the wrong answer in this kind of situation, with this kind of person, she would be killed, so she decided to remain silent. After a few minutes of silence, the hooded figure spoke again.

"Well, well, the creature before us chooses not to answer. We have plenty of time so we will wait. But not for too long." He then retreated behind the light, leaving Jane on her own before the light.

Trying to make sense of her surroundings, Jane was forced to use her other senses as she was almost blinded by the strong light beaming into her face. 

Straining to listen, Jane heard an insistent tapping, which quickly got on her nerves. She wasn't too sure but it sounded like someone tapping a pen incessantly on a wooden table. 

From the echoes she surmised she was in a large building of some sort, a warehouse or a barn, perhaps. 

Trying to make out how many people were in the room by listening to their breathing was a very tough task for Jane. It was made impossible by the dratted tapping. 

However her PTSD and the situation she found herself in heightened her senses to the extent that she was hyper aware, despite not having slept for more than 48 hours, apart from when she was shot with a tranquilizer gun. She seethed at that, being treated like an animal on the Seregenti plains, shot like that!

"Still waiting for your reply, Jane Clementine." 

Jane ignored the man's comment. She almost couldn't help herself when she spat at him...

“You pathetic little man!”

The hooded figure merely snorted sardonically. 

“You are tied up and try to insult me with mere words? You realize you cannot hurt me at all. Do you think you are the first person to try to mock my short stature? You silly creature. Very well, I see that you choose not to reply to my question. I will give you time to reconsider your position regarding your sins.”

He then retreated to his place behind the spotlight and silence took over, apart from the incessant tapping. Jane tried to consider her limited options, but for now, she felt so tired. Closing her eyes, she turned her face away from the beam as much as possible. 

The putrid stench of oil and rotten fish made her realize she was somewhere in the port docklands. So she deduced that she was in an abandoned warehouse. And yet there was this very strong soapy smell. It was quite distinctive, a smell she knew but couldn't quite put her finger on it...

Tasting the air, she could sense the salt in it, which confirmed her beliefs that she was by the port. Either that or at the wharves. Seawater. 

Eyes still closed, she felt drowsy, and was on the verge of falling asleep, bound as she was, when suddenly she was doused with ice cold brine. 

In a cold and menacing tone, she heard a snarl in the voice shouting at her.

"WHO TOLD YOU YOU COULD REST? YOU NEED TO REPENT FIRST!"

Jane just stood there, silently but she started to shiver. The warehouse was cold and draughty, which made her feel even more cold. 

"Vile disgusting creature. No modesty whatsoever. How dare you show men what is only for your husband to see?"

Shaking with anger, the voice continued. "Yes, let's start with fornication."

The bound woman waited with dread to see what he would say or do to her. Her head was pounding with lack of sleep, so she was on the point of collapse, had she not been bound. 

“Creature, do you know your Catholic Scripture?”

Jane looked up at him through bleary and red-rimmed eyes, but said nothing. 

The man paced back and forth before stopping right in front of her, whispering into her right ear,  
“I will teach you. Your parents failed you, but your grandparents and great grandparents, both here and in Italy, were devout Catholics. Indeed, I came across documents when researching your family tree. Your great grand mother, Maria Maddalena Mazzone, was a devout Catholic and made sure her daughter married a Catholic Italian man, which she did, in marrying Gianluca Vincini. I don't think she would be too impressed with your parents' actions as adulterers, and in you in your own behavior!”

He paused, panting. Wiping his brow with the back of his hand, he continued, stepping back a bit.

“When it comes to fornication, the Holy Scripture says a lot.”

Still shivering, Jane stared at a spot on the floor, as the man droned on.

“Ecclesiasticus 42:12  
Let her not parade her charms before men."

I heard a lot about you. It is ironic that you seek to cover your body before us when you realized we stripped you of your clothing before strapping you to the punishment frame. Yes, Punishment frame, You need to repent and be punished for your sins! You paraded your charms before men. Here is a name for you. Charles Edward Jones. He goes by the name Casey, or so we were informed. You lay in bed with him on more than one occasion.”

The hooded figure slowly walked towards her and stopped mere inches before her, and screamed in her face.

“You were about to get married to him! That was the only way to cleanse yourself, marrying the man you fornicated with! And yet you called off the engagement!” 

Jane flinched as the spittle hit her face, and desired nothing more than to wipe it off her face, but couldn't. So all she could do was to glower at him as he ranted on. 

“I personally witnessed you with your colleague, Dr Isles and her mother. Disgusting, the spectacle you displayed in that bar, Sodom and Gomorrah would be most pleased with you. Indeed, you were the subject of idle gossip by drunkards. Have you no dignity? You should know better, you were raised Catholic. The Isles creature knows no better, as she was raised without religion.”

He glared at her, and thrust his face closer to her face, She tried not to respond, but a slight flinch gave her away. He stood up and moved back a bit, telling her he was sickened by the very thought of her. She somehow found it easier to put up with his rantings, which was typical for a nut job. She decided to wait until he calmed down. She looked at him and waited for him to finish his rantings. 

The hooded figure took a pause and exhaled heavily. 

“You were more than likely led astray. I saw how you looked at that woman. I saw how she looked at you.”

Jane was taken aback at this and looked at him questioningly, before remembering not to react to him, but it was too late. He saw her reaction and smiled grimly. He started quoting from Scripture. 

“Matthew 5:28  
"one who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery."

The torturer and the tortured looked at each other, Jane inhaling his very distinctive smell, which was quite soapy. Out of nowhere, she recalled the brand: “Handclean”. She was to develop a hatred for that smell from then on. The man saw that she was thinking about something different so he backhanded her face, and shouted with agitation at her, 

“Do you think I enjoy doing this!? I do not like doing this” He paused, glaring at her with such scorn/hate, “But I have to, the Master told me to do this, and you're not even paying attention!”

Jane did not respond, just watched him. That seemed to appease him, so he continued, pacing back and forth, in front of her, Jane following him with her eyes, not moving her head. 

“I saw your baptism certificate, when researching you, so your original sin was erased, and you were turned back towards God. The inclination toward sin and evil persists, however, and you must continue to struggle against concupiscence. Do you even know what that is? Well, do you?”

The woman just looked blankly into space trying to appease him, but not giving any reaction. She then moved her eyes to look at him as he paced the room in front of her once more. 

She shifted as the binds were hurting her wrists and shoulders. The man stopped pacing and walked towards her. When he stood in front of her, he pulled out a sharp knife. Jane noted the thin veiny skin of his hands, indicating old age. "So he's an old guy..."

Shaking with fear, the shivering woman eyed the knife warily. He noted her gaze on the knife, before sighing. He moved the knife and raised it towards Jane's neck and shoulders. 

“You need to repent first before I can release you from your binds. However, I can help you a little bit, I can help you with the binds at your shoulders.”

He roughly hewed at the ropes with the serrated knife and the ropes restraining her shoulders fell to the ground. Suddenly he cut her back a few times with the tip of the knife, causing her to bleed profusely. Jane stopped groaning with the pain when he stopped, and whispered into her ear... 

“I am merely helping you cleanse of your sins.”

In shock and pain, the woman looked at him with trepidation. He was about to do more with the knife when a second voice interrupted them. 

“That will be enough. Enough!” 

The first man stopped and stepped back from Jane. The second figure, also in a monk's habit, with the hood over his face but much taller, moved to stand beside him, and took the knife from him. Ignoring Jane altogether, the taller man continued. 

“You've done quite enough. Now, go and make the phone calls. You know who to call, don't you? I'll take over from here.”

The shorter of the two nodded, and beckoned towards his phone, which he took from a hidden pocket.   
“Yes, Maura Isles, Constance Isles, and Angela Rizzoli. They are to be reminded of their sins, and how they are responsible for this creature here being chosen.”

Sighing, the taller of the two spoke louder, berating the other;   
“Must you be so dramatic? There is no need for such histrionics. Just call them, remind them of their culpability, and how they could help Jane come to her senses and repent. That is, if they want their Jane back. With all your flowery speech, did you tell her why she was selected?”

The shorter man grunted, and shook his head. 

“No, I was about to, when you stopped me. Very well, I shall call them and remind them of their part in Jane being led astray. Have you the numbers?”

The taller of the two tsked at that and told his companion he would take over and look after business, so that the Master would be satisfied. He handed over a piece of paper with the numbers written on them.

“Here you are. By the way, I contacted the newspapers so you don't have to worry about that. Ok, be off now, I'll look after Jane here, and help make her repent.”

Jane couldn't help but feel a bit of trepidation when she heard about the newspaper companies being contacted. What on earth did he mean by that? And this business of 'making her repent”? She swallowed and tried to compose herself as much as possible, given her woozy state and intense pain she felt on her back and now her wrists, with the extra support of the binds at her shoulders taken away. 

The companion watched as Jane screamed in agony after the taller man rubbed salt in her bleeding wounds on her back. Emotionlessly, he remarked on how even though it may sting, salt was an excellent antiseptic for bloody wounds. That she should be grateful for his medical care. He looked around and saw the smaller man watching.

“Are you still here?”

The smaller of the two men nodded and left. Walking towards the side, he bent forward and picked up a jacket, put it on the table in front of him. The old man took off his monk's habit and put on his jacket. Looking at the panting, stony faced woman with disdain, he let his companion continue what he started. 

He left the warehouse and walked away from the port. As soon as he reached Charlestown Bridge, he took care to cross the road and walked towards the summit of the bridge where he stopped, looking at the traffic. As it was still early in the morning, just before daybreak, the traffic wasn't that heavy, so he knew it was the right time to start making phone calls.

To his disappointment he couldn't get through to Angela Rizzoli, but the next number he tried belonged to Maura Isles.


End file.
